Painted Black
by JenKristo
Summary: Long after the Autobots lose the war, Bumblebee tries to survive in a filthy Decepticon work camp. Knockout x Bumblebee.
1. Chapter 1

Painted Black

1

The factory was massive, endless it seemed. And still it felt cramped, with more machinery and workers than should be held in two factories. The walls were dark with soot, the windows letting in only a subdued light through the grime. An everlasting cloud of smoke moved sluggishly around the ceiling, the ventilation system once meant to expel it long removed and dismantled for parts. And the noise, the roar of machinery and un-cleared filters, the beating of hammers and screams of drills and hydraulics filled the factory to the brim.

Perhaps the most startling sight of it all was that of the workers themselves, all uniformally black. And it wasn't the glossy black of a high-end finish, but the uneven, matte finish that took fifteen minutes to apply and began to flake as soon as it dried. If it weren't for the grime and complete lack of access to water, the workers might still show glimpses of the colors they once held.

Bumblebee stared down at his dark, filthy servos and contemplated color and how much he had taken it for granted years ago. His hue was gone, buried, sprayed over with the dark finish that took away any semblance of individuality the Autobots might have left. A Decepticon symbol was painted on the wall just in case any of them forgot, but no one did anymore. Bumblebee had stopped looking at it a year ago.

He worked at his place on the factory line, attaching machinery together with a set of bolts and pushing it along down the set of rollers to the next mech. He did so completely with his left servo, his right wrist having gone bad a month back from over-work. There were no repair facilities in this work camp and no medics, only the bi-monthly medics that came in to repair the Autobot prisoners who were worth repairing. And Bumblebee didn't want anyone to know. If he was deemed inefficient and not worth fixing and refueling, he would be taken out back… and that would be the end.

The mech beside him coughed and then began coughing harder, his ventilation system long due for a clearing. He'd been coughing for weeks, ever since the last Autobot had dropped dead beside Bumblebee and had been replaced with this one. Bumblebee had stopped asking his coworkers' names, it just made it harder when they were gone.

"Something the matter with you?" a gruff voice asked. Bumblebee resisted looking up, but out of his peripheral vision he could see the Decepticon guard standing in front of the mech beside him. Bee kept his helm down and continued working. Primus knew what would happen if the guard asked him a question and he was forced to speak. Any hint at his identity, that the last Prime's elite scout was still alive would be the end of him. He remembered what had happened to the other speed vehicles, namely Blurr.

Blurr was assigned as an errand mech, as were all of the fast cars, pulling a trailer of parts from one camp to another until he could no longer pull anything. Bumblebee had been taking scrap metal to the dump when it happened, when Blurr sluggishly shuffled to the back end of the camp, the guards shoving him along. He saw the piles, piles of offlined Autobots left back there to rust. He watched Blurr walk back behind the piles and heard the tell-tale shot fired from the guard. And that had been the last of them, the mechs whose names Bumblebee knew. The acquaintances were all gone, the friends, the loved ones. The Autobot Elites. The humans. Everyone.

"What about you?" the guard growled, and Bumblebee's optics shot up to meet his. He shook his head furiously, continuing the work he had stopped in the daydream, trying to get his right wrist to cooperate despite the burning agony of moving it. "Fantasizing about your next vacation to the mercury seas?" the guard laughed, continuing on his way.

Bumblebee thought it was over until the guard stopped and pivoted on his heel, quickly grabbing Bumblebee's wrist. He wrenched it back and Bee screamed, artificial vocals straining from the pain and the lack of use.

"I thought so," the guard said over Bumblebee's whimpers. He held tightly around his wrist, glaring down at him. It seemed, to Bumblebee's relief, that his vocals were still not recognized. "Well you're in luck. There's a medic coming today, and you might just get a chance to have that wrist put to work again. Go to the end room and stay there."

Bumblebee nodded, backing away from the guard and hurrying down the aisle and out of the main factory room.

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

2

Bumblebee waited in a smaller room with other damaged mechs. They stood in a row, watched by guards, waiting for the medic who had space-bridged from Cybertron to make rounds on the different camps set up on Earth.

Not soon after Bumblebee had arrived did the mech with the bad ventilation system join him. Normally such a thing like a cough would be ignored, but he must have been sent in since the medic was close to arriving anyway.

The door on the far end opened with a creak and the row of Autobots hung their helms.

"Primus kill me…" the mech groaned. Bumblebee's optics brightened with terror at the familiar voice and he turned to look. There he was, Megatron's top medic during the war. But Knockout didn't look at all as Bumblebee had remembered. His red enamel was dull, lacking in the waxed luster it was once known for. It was strange, one would have thought a Con of Knockout's rank would be doing excellently after the war. And then he saw Knockout raise a small flask of high grade to his mouth before tucking it into subspace. Maybe that explained it.

Bumblebee's spark had fallen. There was a chance Knockout still might recognize him, and if he did, it was over.

"How many are here? Thirty? This scrap isn't in my contract," Knockout growled, "I'm not even supposed to be on Earth this month. I had to endure enough of this dirty organic planet during the war."

The medic scoffed again, his footfalls approaching the first Autobot in line. "Hmm… detached optical lense… I don't have the equipment to fix it, but he can still work fine with one."

"You sure?" the accompanying guard asked, "It won't be a nuisance having him around?"

"One optic is fine. Shockwave gets by fantastically, doesn't he?" Knockout laughed grimly. "If he has two good servos, that's good enough." Bumblebee looked down at his wrist with worry.

The medic approached the next prisoner and examined him. Bumblebee wanted to look again but he resisted. He was too afraid he was right. "How long has your energon line been leaking?" the medic asked.

"Eight… eight solar cycles," the Autobot said quietly.

"Don't lie to me. How long?"

"T-Three weeks. I… I had it pinched closed with a clamp."

After a pause, the medic spoke to the guard. "Take him to my medical unit out front. I'll fix him once I finish assessing the rest of them."

Bumblebee waited as Knockout went down the line. He was surprised at the Decepticon's responses, so far not a single Autobot was deemed irreparable. It could be orders from the top. Maybe too many of them had offlined and they wanted more to work until they dropped. They were either sent back to work if their injuries weren't severe enough, sent to the medical unit out front or adjusted on the spot. When Knockout reached the mech beside Bumblebee with the cough, Bumblebee ducked his helm even farther.

"Open your chest plating," Knockout said, and the mech tentatively responded. Knockout stooped forward, looking up into the Autobot's insides. "Hmm… intake slowly and vent out." The mech did so, but began coughing violently as he vented his breath. Knockout sighed and turned to the guard. "I'm out of high grade. Get me some. I know one of you has some tucked away in an office somewhere."

"Excuse me, I'm not your errand mech," the guard spat, "Just because you're some high and mighty elite on Cybertron doesn't mean I don't carry my weight around here-"

"Shut your oily intake and go before I drop your name into my report!" Knockout snapped. The guard grimaced and walked out.

Once out of audio-shot of any of the guards, Knockout leaned in and emotionlessly whispered to the weezing Autobot. "There's nothing I can do for you."

The Autobot's venting quickened, fearfully waiting Knockout's command to have him sent out back. "Shh," Knockout continued, and hesitated a moment. "You… you're not going to last more than a month or so before you overheat. Just…" Knockout sighed and took a step back. "You're fine," he said loudly, "It'll clear up on its own. Go back to work."

"Th-thank…"

"Don't speak to me, Autobot! I said go back to work!"

The Autobot hurried by, coughing hard before he left the room. Bumblebee couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. Was this the same medic?

Knockout approached him and he dropped his helm, no less terrified of being recognized. Letting off a sick mech was one thing, but there was no quiet to be kept if an Autobot with a name was found out. That would be true, unforgivable treason.

"What's the problem?" Knockout asked nonchalantly.

Bumblebee knew he wanted an answer, but he hoped he could pull off a gesture. He tentatively held out his arm and pointed to his wrist. He could feel Knockout glaring, but the mech didn't force him to speak.

"Are you playing slagging charades with me? What is the problem? It hurts?"Bumblebee nodded quickly and Knockout huffed over his silent response. He tapped the black armor on Bee's forearm with a tapered claw. "Open the hatch and I'll have a look."

Quickly and obediently Bumblebee unlatched the hatch on his arm that would expose the inner machinery. But as the hatch slid back, a thin but unmistakable yellow seam came into view, where the black paint had not reached. The silence was deafening as Knockout stared at the bright enamel.

"Look at me."

Bumblebee kept his helm down.

"Look at me. Now."

Bumblebee vented a breath and raised his helm, meeting Knockout's gaze. The Decepticon medic's expression was unreadable. Knockout took out his flask of high grade, which was not empty after all, and drank from it heavily before wiping his mouth with the back of a servo.

"This one can't be fixed," he said to the remaining guard. Bumblebee's optics widened.

"Uh, really?" the guard said with minimal interest. "I've seen that one around… doesn't give us problems. It'd be a shame to lose a worker over a little arm defect."

"I don't have the part I need and he'll only slow down the line with one functioning servo." Knockout narrowed his optics further. "And don't question me again unless you want to fix all these filthy Autobots yourself."

"Sorry, Doctor."

Knockout took the guard's weapon and returned to Bumblebee.

"Doctor, what are you…?"

"I'm doing it myself," Knockout replied to the guard, "If I can't fix one, I put it out myself." He pointed the weapon at Bee. "Move."

xxx

To be continued.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Bumblebee began the long walk across the yard with Knockout's gun to his back. Helplessness and fear had so long been his companions that he felt numb even in these circumstances. He looked out beyond the electric fence, at the swaying tree line, the mountains and the sky beyond it. With the new industry and accompanying pollution it was remarkable that the trees had endured and that Earth's polluted atmosphere had not darkened over completely.

Soon they reached the piles and Bumblebee faced ahead. Executed Autobots were thrown haphazardly over one another, the piles of them more than doubling Bee's height. He did what he could to keep his optics from straying over their faces, afraid he would see one he had once spoken to or recharged with. Knockout brought him away from the view of the factory, between two blackened piles where a long shadow was cast over them both. Knockout stopped walking and Bumblebee turned to face him.

"You managed to hide a long time, scout."

The medic looked worse in the daylight, his once brilliant, glossy red enamel now dull, pitted and faded from neglect. The persona that Bumblebee had once been accustomed to had also faded, exhaustion and resignation encompassing the Decepticon. "Bumblebee," he whispered in a peculiar way. He raised his weapon and Bumblebee offlined his optics. He held onto the memories that he treasured most, those of Raf growing up, inviting girls for a ride in his yellow Camaro, and the comforting, deep sound of Optimus' vocals that had kept them all steady until his very last word.

The shot rang out and Bumblebee onlined his optics.

Knockout stood with the gun pointed just to the left of Bumblebee's helm. He lowered it, continuing to watch him with an empty expression. Bumblebee was frozen from shock as Knockout approached, scraping a claw across his cheek plating.

Bumblebee flinched, though it didn't hurt. He knew what Knockout had done, exposing the chrome and yellow beneath. 'What are you doing?' he vocalized cautiously.

Knockout looked at him, ignoring the question.

"They say that war does something to a mech, but I thrived in it. It was when we won, that's when the illusion disappeared and I realized I was never going to get back what I lost."

Bumblebee stayed quiet as Knockout voiced his musings, not sure what to make of it.

Knockout looked at him and smirked. "And you workers… you Autobot slaves, you're refueled on so much propaganda that you wouldn't know the truth if you saw it right in front of you."

'What truth?'

Knockout watched him knowingly. "That there's a glimmer of hope still fighting to survive for you Autobots. And Megatron, oh he knows it. It's like a scraplet eating the inside of his processor, Primus knows he wants them found and killed."

Bumblebee stood there wearily, fatigued with under-fueling, fighting to understand. 'Who?'

"I guess you'll find out, won't you?" In one motion, Knockout stepped forward and took Bee by the back of his neck, pressing a kiss below his optic. Bumblebee hit him hard, and Knockout stumbled back and fell to the ground. Bumblebee stood before him, terrified as Knockout smiled up at him.

'What happened to you?' Bumblebee asked.

"I came to terms with reality. And reality, that's what brought out the worst in me. Reality is what made me come to this." He gestured to himself, obviously aware of his appearance, his exhaustion, and maybe even the high grade. "Now, walk to the fence and turn left, and follow it to the last grave mound. There's a hole in the fence, and I'm sure Optimus' best scout will be able to track down the other escapees. I've heard Smokescreen is with them, along with Rodimus, of course. You can't have an uprising without him."

Bumblebee couldn't believe his audios. 'They're… they're alive?'

"As alive as we are."

Bumblebee looked out toward the fence, where his supposed freedom lay. A fire ignited in him he began to walk toward it, even though his processor was still swarmed with incredulity. He halted for a moment, turning back to look at Knockout, who stayed sitting on the ground, tired and dull.

'Whatever happened…' Bumblebee vocalized slowly, 'I don't think it brought out the worst in you. I think… maybe it brought out the best.'

Xxx

To be continued.


	4. 1,464 years later

Don't be confused, this IS a new chapter. Also, I know how different the characters may seem here, and I want you to know this is my interpretation of how they might be after everything they'd been through. Trigger warning for references to disturbing content.

4

Cybertron: 1,464 years later

Bumblebee began the long walk across the yard, optics trained on the back of a black-painted helm. Bee held out a gun, pressed against the dark mech's back. They walked out between two grave piles and out of sight of the factory. In the shadow of a pile, Bumblebee stopped walking. The other mech stopped as well and turned around, red optics locking onto Bumblebee's. The yellow scout raised his weapon and pointed it at Knockout's helm.

The black-painted medic calmly closed his optics and Bumblebee put weight on the trigger. Deep in his spark he felt anxious to move the weapon away, and the longer he waited the greater was his desire to spare the prisoner's life. But he soon found he was helpless to control himself, his body working on its own accord. Terror overtook him as his arm moved on its own, straightening out, pulling the trigger, and firing at the medic. Shredded metal blew out the back of Knockout's helm and he fell to the ground, dead.

Bumblebee sat up in his berth, vents gasping for a breath. His spark burned painfully as he cycled air, trying to orient himself. He was in the berthroom of his apartment, with no more than a dim, golden light glowing from the headboard of the berth. He swore to Primus that he would shoot himself if he had to endure that dream for one more night. The last few weeks had been difficult, with old memories resurfacing and then warping into twisted nightmares as he recharged.

Just about when Bumblebee's old leg injury reminded him of its presence with a painful throb, he heard a knock at the door. He turned on the berth-side light and opened a drawer, pulling a loaded injection gun out from where it was concealed beneath a stack of data pads. He quickly held the gun to the seam of his hip, pressing the needle into an Energon intake. He injected himself, the chemical working through his Energon lines and ebbing the pain just a bit. There was another knock at the door and he dropped the gun into the drawer, closing it hastily.

"Rise and shine, Sir," said the orange and white mech as he opened the door. "It's a beautiful day and there's so much to see if you felt like, oh, getting adventurous and leaving the apartment today." He stepped inside with a small tray in hand.

'Blades,' Bumblebee said in a curl of unamused beeps, 'Why are you here five slagging hours early?'

"You had me take note on my agenda to have you up early today," the assistant said as he set down the tray on the berth-side table. On it was another injection gun and a chemical canister.

'I don't remember telling you to note anything.'

"Maybe you don't remember because you told me six months ago." The copter bot looked at his hand-held device. "You had me mark down 'sentencing day'. Did you want to attend one of the Decepticon trials?"

Bumblebee offlined his optics. 'Could I get that dose now?'

"Yes sir," Blades said, loading the canister into the gun and holding it up to the seam in Bumblebee's hip. The machine pumped the chemical into him with a hiss and Bumblebee collapsed back into the berth with a sigh. The level of pain was almost manageable now.

"Sir," the Blades murmured, "please tell me this is your first dose today." Bumblebee didn't respond. "So you're planning to show up in public for the first time in who knows how long, high on morphite? As much as it astounds me to say this, maybe you should stay inside today and watch the trial on PBG."

'I have to go,' he said, 'I need to see this one in person.' And in all truthfulness, Bumblebee owed it to him to be there.

"I still don't understand-"

'Please, just put it on so we can go.'

The assistant nodded and retrieved the brace where it leaned against the wall. He set it against Bumblebee's side, closing the clamp around Bee's hip and upper leg. Bumblebee bit back a cry as it was tightened into place.

Xxx

Bumblebee avoided eye contact as he limped down the halls of the New Iacon Hub Center. There was a heavy flow of traffic, but the mechs around him gave the small, yellow mech an arm's length of space for him and Blades. He cut through the flow of mechs to the Court District of the Hub Center. He could hear a trial taking place through one of the sets of doors.

"We're on the top viewing level," Blades said, "If we take the elevator you can sit floor level and see better. Have you scheduled your attendance?"

'No.'

"Well one of the citizens will gladly be reseated if you want to sit down there."

'I'm fine up here,' Bumblebee responded earnestly.

Clickfin opened the door quietly and they stepped inside, where roughly two hundred New Iacon citizens watched the public trials. Blades held Bumblebee's arm as he stepped down the few stairs to an empty seat and sat down. He looked down the balcony, where at the bottom floor the judge and offending Decepticon prisoner sat with the other court members.

The trials had been going on without stop for two years now as each captured Decepticon was processed and then sentenced. Those with the greatest war crimes were executed in the following hours to their trial, and those low ranking Decepticons whose crimes were not so severe were given the opportunity to plea to the council. But there hadn't been a single accepted plea in the last two months, and everyone, however few admitted it, knew the reason why. Resources were still on the low end, and New Iacon could only afford to sustain energy and resources for the mass prisons for so long. The Decepticon prisoner population had to be reduced. But that wasn't the true reason. It was simply fear that kept sending the Decepticons to their death. What had happened 1,500 years ago absolutely, without question, could not ever occur again. The Decepticons could never be given another chance to rise into power.

Once, Bumblebee would have found everything about their situation so appalling that he would have acted out, but that was before Megatron had killed Optimus Prime, and had committed genocide against the indigenous population of Earth. It was before he'd lost almost every Autobot he knew to merciless interrogations, work camps, withholding of energon, torture and other brutalities. What had to be done would be done if it meant that the tables would never turn again.

"Bumblebee, sir," Blades whispered, "Do you want me to take you out of here?"

Bumblebee came out of his dark cloud and realized that his servos were balled into fists. 'I'm… I'm fine.'

He watched another two 'con soldiers come in and leave with especially swift trials. The first had been allowed to give a plea to the committee, but upon swearing that he would never remove his Decepticon insignia or be loyal to anyone but the deceased Megatron, he was escorted to the execution room. The second had been found guilty for multiple counts of interrogation torture and rape, and was sentenced to the same.

The announcer spoke up again. "Up next we have Decepticon Knockout."

Bumblebee sat completely still in his seat as the door opened and Knockout was escorted in. The medic's wrists were bound behind him, an electro collar locked around his neck. Bumblebee smirked behind his vocalizer as Knockout sat, looking as if he was the guest of honor here. Knockout's days of darkness had gone as the Autobots had risen up again. His glossy, red enamel had been restored along with the life in his optics. He only hoped they wouldn't be extinguished today.

The announcer opened the file in his datapad and began to read. "Decepticon Knockout was a high ranking medic before the war, and for most of it he was a personal medic for Megatron himself. He was also chief Decepticon medical officer during the campaign on Earth, prior to the death of the late Prime and before the Decepticon rise. He has been found guilty for multiple counts of interrogation torture, with no plea allowance. Unless any of the council objects, his sentence is execution by 7.9 EM pulse to the spark."

The announcer waited for a moment to give the council time, in case any wished to speak out. Normally it was a formality since the council almost never objected, but Bumblebee had submitted a data notification six months ago, and so waited for it to be brought up and discussed. But the moment was brief and the council was silent before the announcer continued. "Without further delay, trial of Decepticon Knockout is complete."

Bumblebee's brows pulled together and he tried to stand, struggling with his brace and the sharp pain in his hip. Blades rushed to help him. 'Tell them to wait,' Bumblebee said hurriedly.

"H-Hold on!" Blades called down, with an edge of surprise in his own voice. "Sir, what is it?" he asked Bee.

Bumblebee steadied himself on his pedes and leaned over the edge of the balcony. Knockout looked up at him, the defiant smirk falling from his face before he turned away again.

"Commander Bumblebee," one of the council members said with soft respect. This council member was nobody to Bee, a name he hadn't heard before the war ended, and whose name he'd forgotten since election. "To what do we owe the honor of your presence?"

'I'd like to know what happened to my data notification on Decepticon Knockout.'

The council turned to the announcer, who quickly looked through his data pad before shrugging. Bumblebee bit back his anger. It was so typical that proof would be disregarded, but that they would even stoop to passing over a Commander's data notification was infuriating.

"Apologies Commander," the council member said, "it seems they have been misplaced. Was there something you wanted to share?"

Bumblebee hesitated, looking at Knockout again. The medic stared ahead of him with a neutral expression. Bumblebee had not had any desire to speak in front of him or to be seen by him, and had hoped that the information would be discussed without need for a public intervention. He stood there silently, the whole of the courtroom watching him.

'I… I never documented the details of my detainment at Full-cron Work Camp, or my escape from it. But… the Decepticon on trial here orchestrated my escape. He has credit for my survival.'

The room filled with murmurs, the council leaning over each other to speak amongst themselves. The youngest member turned to him. "Do you have any proof of this encounter?"

"Watch who you're speaking to!" snapped another council member. "A veteran Commander's word should be enough. He should not have to endure any interrogation."

"Alright, that's enough," one of the eldest member said, quieting his fellows. He turned to Bumblebee. "We thank you for your contribution, Commander. But we cannot dismiss all of the crimes this mech has committed for one good act. You do remember that he is responsible for the death of multiple Autobots?"

'I remember. And I also remember that I'm responsible for the death of numerous Decepticons,' Bumblebee responded. 'We all are. Every veteran. Isn't that why we don't even bother listing it on the counts of guilt? I don't condone anything he has done against us, but I can't sit here and say nothing either. Not after what he did for me.'

"Once again," the older council member said, "I thank you for your contribution. But…"he paused as a smaller bot ran up to his table, passing him a data pad. He read it and turned up his helm. "It seems that since the live broadcast of Commander Bumblebee's confession, eight other survivors of the Earthian work camps have called in to give Knockout credit for their escape."

Bumblebee looked at Knockout with surprise, but the medic kept his expression in check.

"Make that eleven calls," the council member said after his assistant approached him again. He sighed and turned to his fellows. "With the new evidence attained in the prisoner's defense, does anyone have an objection to waving the death penalty?"

"I don't want him back in the prison," another said. "Spare his life, fine. But something else has to be done with him."

The older council member watched Bumblebee. "Commander, do you have any suggestions as to the fate of him? He cannot stay in the prisons and if you have no input, we will be forced to proceed with the execution."

Bumblebee hesitated, not having any ideas.

"Commander?"

'I'll take him,' Bumblebee vocalized quickly. Knockout's optics flashed up to him and Bee looked away. 'If there's nothing else to do with him, I'll… give him a place to stay. And keep an optic on him.'

"Interesting," one of the younger council members said coldly, "So he'll be like… a slave."

Bumblebee's optics brightened with indignation. 'That is not what I meant!'

"Hold your glossa!" the older council member growled to the younger. "But I do understand his meaning," he said to Bumblebee. "We cannot simply 'give out' Decepticons. In the eye of the public that could be called nothing but slavery, which is in strict violation of the Autobot Code. That was obviously not your intention, but still…"

"He can take me," Knockout said aloud, immediately commanding the court's attention. "I'm not a slave if I go willingly. He can be my warden. And anyway, look at him. He's in blatant need of a qualified medical aid which he obviously doesn't have if he's still wearing that ancient brace. And if the leader of the Decepticon army trusting my skills doesn't qualify me, I don't know what does."

"That's enough," the eldest council member said, despite the hum of laughter drifting over the crowd. The council leaned in to speak with one another and turned to Bumblebee. "You agree to this? To act as his warden?"

Bumblebee vented a sigh. 'I do.'

To be continued.


	5. Chapter 5

5

Hours dragged on, torturously for Bumblebee. He had survived the trial well enough, but this was more than he could take. He didn't bother checking his internal clock, already knowing he was far past due for a hit. He sat at the end of a long table in the court district, a lawyer at his side. On the far end of the table sat Knockout, with the District Official standing over his shoulder. Bumblebee's servos trembled on the table as the level of morphite in his system dropped, and he moved his servos to his lap when he saw the Doctor staring at them. His red optics turned up to meet Bumblebee's.

The lawyer was jabbering away and Bumblebee could barely hear him anymore, he was so overwhelmed. He stared at the ceiling, unable to ignore the throbbing in his damaged hip.

"Commander?" the lawyer spoke up.

"'Mmh, what?'

The lawyer looked up at the district official and back to Bumblebee. "This is a serious situation, Commander. The Terms of Agreement must be hashed out in order for the Decepticon to be released into your custody. If you're unfit too…"

'I'm fit,' Bumblebee said, glancing across the table to Knockout. The medic hadn't looked away yet, and hadn't spoken once without being prompted.

"As I was saying," the lawyer continued, "Do you agree never to remove the transformation-inhibiting collar under pain of treason charges?"

Bumblebee nodded.

"You must agree aloud, Commander."

'Yes.'

"And do you agree never to let him out of your residence unsupervised?"

'Yes.'

"Under no circumstances is your ward to be allowed access to peripheral weaponry, and any personal collection you own must be code-locked."

'Fine.'

"Commander?"

'Yes,' Bumblebee corrected with irritation.

"As specified by the Anti-slavery laws, do you hereby swear never to require the prisoner to do any labor whatsoever, both physically and intellectually?'

'Yes.'

The lawyer turned to Knockout. "And do you, Knockout, willingly agree to offer medical services necessary to maintain Commander Bumblebee's health and wellness?"

"Yes."

"Do you understand that you are in no way obligated to perform any other tasks outside of your area of expertise?"

"Yes. Question…"

"What is it?" the lawyer asked, looking irritated.

"Some of the tools necessary to maintain Bumblebee's health-"

"That's /Commander/ Bumblebee," the District Official said, laying a servo firmly on Knockout's shoulder.

Knockout rolled his optics. "Some of the tools could be considered potential weapons. I have permission to use them?"

The Lawyer and the District Official exchanged glances and the Official turned to Bumblebee. "Commander, are you truly comfortable allowing a Decepticon to lay dangerous tools against you? You can back out of this, you know."

Bumblebee's thoughts had returned to the pain and he fought back the urge to tell him he'd sign anything blindfolded to get out of the room quicker.

'It's fine,' he said in a low beep.

After a few seconds of silence the lawyer spoke. "Moving on, and I apologize in advance for the question, Commander. I'm required to ask under the Anti-slavery law. Do you understand that it is expressly forbidden for you to require your ward to perform sexual favors of any kind?"

Bumblebee's optics brightened, irising inward with mortification. He couldn't help glancing at Knockout. 'O-Of course not.'

Knockout watched him with darkened optics, his expression unreadable.

"Please rephrase your answer, Commander," the lawyer said gently.

'I understand.'

A glint of humor passed over the Decepticon's features and Bumblebee had to look away.

"And here we have a data pad listing prohibited and allowable forms of corporal punishment. You can read through it at home."

After the last few documents were read through and signed by both Bumblebee and Knockout, the medic was officially released into Bumblebee's custody. Blades drove them back in Bumblebee's personal shuttle, with the prisoner forbidden to transform and the Commander too disabled to do so anymore. The drive was silent, Blades at the wheel and Bumblebee looking out the passenger window. He glanced at the rear view camera and saw Knockout leaning against the window, optics closed and expression smoothed with recharge.

xxxx

Soon they had reached the apartment complex, a chrome, slightly curved structure overlooking New Iacon Park. The park itself was a maze of statues and geometric structures from both new artists and from those whose work had endured the war.

Bumblebee stared ahead with dread at the crowd gathered at the door of the complex. The door mech and valet were shouting at them to clear out, but they were unrelenting, and seemed to come alive at the sight of Bumblebee's shuttle.

Bee opened his door, breaking the sound dampener and letting in the angry protests of the crowd. Blades gasped. "Wait! Sir, we have to plan this out! You can't just…"

Bumblebee got out and slammed the door, opening the back and waiting for Knockout to exit, wrists still bound behind him.

"Rust in the pits, you scrap metal!" one of the mechs shouted.

"Get out of our neighborhood! You don't belong!"

Knockout chuckled, looking from the crowd to Bumblebee. "My welcoming committee?"

Before Bumblebee could answer, a metal pipe flew from the crowd, hitting him on the back of the helm and clattering to the ground. He fell forward, vocoder screeching at the impact on his hip. 'Oh fff…!'

"You're a slagging traitor!" one of the mechs shouted. Knockout's optics widened, and Bumblebee knew that the Decepticon had figured out who they were actually shouting at.

Blades hurried over to them, quick to grab the pipe and hold it up, fearlessly swinging at the much larger pack of angry mechs. "Go away!" he shouted, "Have a little respect for a veteran!"

"A pathetic excuse for one!" someone snapped back.

Bumblebee had covered his face, unable to compose himself through the pain. Knockout stood, helplessly bound as Blades came to his side. He dropped the pipe and helped Bumblebee to slowly rise to his pedes. The con followed behind them as they went through the door, the valet taking charge of the shuttle when they were gone.

In the elevator Knockout turned to Blades. "Would you kindly un-cuff me now?"

"Don't talk to me," the mech responded as he looked away, trying to keep space between them in the small space.

"You'll need to un-cuff me eventually," Knockout said.

'Just do it, Blades,' Bumblebee murmured in a low beep, his back to them as he stood facing the door.

After reaching the top floor, Bumblebee limped through the apartment and entered his bedroom, and Blades entered his own room and slammed the door. Knockout looked around at the large living room and the tall windows looking down on the garden. He turned to Bee's opened door, taking it as an invitation.

"Feel better?" he asked, sidling up to Bumblebee who sat on the edge of his berth. The Commander was injecting morphite into his hip.

'I'm not in the mood,' Bumblebee said as he retrieved another canister from the drawer.

"I wasn't offering," Knockout played, twisting his intention.

Bumblebee didn't answer, his focus elsewhere. He knew three doses together was potentially hazardous, but he could take the risk. He needed it now.

After the second injection and another canister in the gun, Knockout came closer. "Don't you think two is enough?" Bumblebee ignored him and Knockout grabbed the gun. They struggled and Bumblebee surprised him as he reached up, pulling Knockout down until he lay on top of him on the berth.

Knockout looked down at the other in shock, his composure lost for a moment as they lay there. He finally recovered, optics darkening as he tilted his helm to whisper in Bumblebee's audial. "You shouldn't take another."

Quickly while he was distracted, Bumblebee ripped the injection gun from Knockout's grasp and jabbed the needle into a thick fuel line in the Decepticon's neck. Knockout grunted, looking even more shocked this time before he fell unconscious. Morphite could do that sort of thing when injected into a core fuel line.

Bumblebee shoved him off and onto the floor. 'Fragger.' He took a third injection in his hip, then lay back and let the drug knock him out.

To be continued.


End file.
